Hand in Hand
by LuxaLovesLawnmowers
Summary: Ibiki sighed, running his hand across his face. Breaks just didn't seem to exist...except when Anko was involved.


Disclaimer- I don't own Naruto.

Another Ibiki/Anko oneshot from me! Not related to my other one...that I can't remember the name to. I hope you like it!

* * *

Ibiki sighed as he signed yet another page of paperwork. It was the worst thing about being at a position of power in ANBU- dreary hours of paperwork for just one tortured prisoner. He didn't even touch them half the time and he still had to fill out forms for their mental state.

He shook his hand out, wincing at the cramp he'd gotten. His hands always hurt after a while, probably because of the wear and tear they'd taken. The medics had informed him more than once it was a miracle that they still worked.

"Having trouble with your hands _again?_" asked a voice from the door. Ibiki looked up to see a woman slouching against the door-frame to his bare office. She wore an ANBU mask with her spiky purple hair poking out the back, her outfit consisting of a beige trench-coat and mesh fishnet.

"Where'd you get that mask?" asked Ibiki dispassionately.

"Stole it off Yamato when he wasn't looking," grinned the woman cheerily. "How long do you think it'll take for him to figure it out?"

"With Yamato's off-duty wit, you'll be fine for days." replied Ibiki.

"So, back to the problem. What's up with your hands?"

Ibiki ignored the seizing pain and glared slightly at Anko. "I have a bigger annoyance to worry about."

Anko pretended to pout. "That wasn't very nice, Ibi-chan."

As she expected, Ibiki turned a slightly redder color. "Don't call me that. How many times have I told you that? What if someone heard you?"

"I'll stop if we go on a date." Anko grinned cockily.

Ibiki rolled his eyes. "What is it with your obsession with me lately? Don't you think I have more important things to do?"

Ibiki made a point of turning back to his paperwork, managing to write something about some Stone prisoner before Anko practically jumped onto his desk. She swung her legs over the side, her feet thumping on the desk with every swing of her foot.

"You'll screw up the desk."

"Don't patronize me. That thing's steel."

Ibiki shook his head slightly. "Shouldn't you be doing something?"

She slipped off the mask to show her pale purple eyes, letting it clank onto Ibiki's desk. The only thing keeping the porcelain from breaking was the massive amount of paperwork littering his desk.

She ignored his question. "I'm sure you're not busy all the time. C'mon you've got to have time for a date somewhere."

"Anko, I haven't gone _home _in a week. I've been sleeping on the cots in the infirmary and eating out of vending machines. I do _not_ have time for a break."

"I thought your skin looked yucky. Candy isn't very healthy, you know," Anko stuck out her tongue at the tired man. "I'm sure we could find a good place to eat with real food."

Ibiki mouth watered at the thought of actual food, but he didn't show it. "I said no. I'm busy."

"You're always busy! Yeah, that's important, but what would the village do if you passed out from exhaustion?"

She had a valid point…for once. He couldn't admit it, but he figured then that he'd take a break and get himself some food when he went home.

"I really do need to get this done. I won't pass out from paperwork."

Anko crossed her legs, still sitting on his desk. "Do you have a pen I could borrow?"

"Why?"

She grabbed a fistful of papers. "To help you, of course. Four hands are better than two, especially since my hands work like they're supposed to."

"That was a low blow." Grunted Ibiki, reaching for the papers. She escaped his grasp and snatched his pen away from him.

"Hah! Watch me sign all these away!" laughed Anko, manically prancing around the room with the pen poised to sign.

"Anko, those are classified! Give those back!" shouted Ibiki, getting up from his desk quickly and chasing her around the room. HE was out of breath in a matter of minutes and had to deal with Anko laughing at him from the ceiling.

"You're that out of breath but you still argue that you're healthy?"

"I didn't say was healthy." grumbled Ibiki.

"That's it," decided Anko, slamming the papers back onto his desk as she hopped down from the ceiling. "You're coming with me whether you like it or not."

Ibiki knew better than to argue, and besides, he _was _hungry.

She dragged the large man out of the building, ignoring any protesting ANBU she might come across. When they reached the street she didn't slow down, just kept walking at a brisk pace that Ibiki for more than easy to keep up with. He thought about asking where they were headed but decided against it.

"Hey," She stopped suddenly, staring at him. "You've taken a shower in the past week, right?"

"Of course," he said, appalled. "In the locker room."

"Thank god."

They turned into an alley and Anko let her hand slid from his arm into his gloved palm so that they were holding hands. He didn't point it out, just followed her like an obedient puppy as she unlocked a dingy door leading to an even dingier apartment. When she opened the door he was surprised. She'd managed to turn a dreary apartment into a home, something he certainly failed at in his own home. She switched on a soft light, and the place was illuminated enough that he could see slightly worn, soft couches and a couple pictures on the wall. The kitchen was adjoined with a bar and she started rummaging through her fridge after she stuffed her coat in a closet, making him wish she would put something else on.

"Be polite, Ibi-chan, and take off your coat."

"Don't call me that." He conceded however, and hung up his coat in her closet. He couldn't help stretching her arms from the stiffness that had been plaguing him for days.

"Do you like miso?"

"Yes." He wasn't lying, although he wasn't really telling the truth. He didn't really care for miso, but after living on rat for a couple months in his early twenties he would eat anything.

"Good, because that's all I have."

"What happened to going to a restaurant?"

"That became revoked when you said no." winked Anko, starting on the soup. He sat down on her couch and glanced at the books she had littered around the area. It wasn't what he had expected, but then he never really tried to figure Anko out. That's not to say that he couldn't- for some reason he thought analyzing her would somehow take the sparkle out of her words. She was a fun person to be with, even if all he did was complain about her.

She strutted over to him and knelt in front of him, making his wonder what she was doing. His mind came up with several possible but very unlikely solutions that he dismissed.

"Let me see your hands." she said softly, her tone very different than the boisterous one she usually used.

"Why?" He had forgotten about the pain in his hands for the moment, and was surprised that she'd brought it up.

"Just do it." she snapped.

He pulled off his leather gloves, wincing a little as the stuck to his hands. He dumped then on an end table and averted his eyes when she looked at them. His hands were even more shocking than his head in some ways. Burn scars made up most of the skin, with sharp slash marks that had failed to face and thin lines around the base of his fingers where they had been broken or ripped off before being reattached. His knuckles were the worst, and Ibiki shuddered when he remembered having the joints cut open. Despite what a lot of people seemed to think, he didn't enjoy physical pain nearly as much as people thought.

To be more accurate, Ibiki was fine with pain. He could endure more than many a Kage, and even managed to get a little masochistic pleasure out of it, but when he looked back on it he couldn't help but shiver with the memory.

Anko was tracing the scars, and he thought he saw a sad smile on her face. "I can help with the pain, if you want. I'm no good at healing scars, but I think I could get rid of the pain."

"Is there any use saying no?"

She gave him a cocky grin. "What do you think?"

He let her run her unique chakra over his hands, turning the palms up so she could run her fingers over the ridges of his scars.

"This must have hurt." she murmured.

He chuckled. "That's an understatement."

"Well, it's not my fault." She said briskly, finishing up with a brisk slap on his fingers. He shook his fingers slightly.

"Thank you. All the pain is gone." he said in wonder.

"I'm good, aren't I?" she snorted, going back to the soup.

He wondered if she knew how well she'd healed the joints- because he was smart enough to know the difference between a broken and badly-healed joint and a fixed one. This wasn't just a temporary fix, and he was very grateful. Grateful enough that he decided he would actually stay for dinner, which Anko was done with and was serving to him in an earthenware bowl.

"This is very good." He lied easily. He could tell Anko didn't have much practice cooking, as this was even worse than regular miso.

"Ah, don't lie. You'll eat anything."

He shrugged. "Don't remind me." He dug in, however, finding it not to be the worst thing he'd ever eaten. Anko slouched on the sofa next to him.

"So, what's it like?" she asked.

"Huh?" He stared at her blankly.

"To be so antisocial. I mean, you have to get lonely. People need human contact to stop from going crazy."

"Who said I'm not crazy?" Ibiki handed her the empty bowl, and she navigated the cluttered floor skillfully to reach the kitchen.

"Trust me, Ibiki, you're not crazy," Anko smiled again, the same sad smile. "At least, I've known crazier."

He relaxed again the couch. "Why do you even bother with the likes of me?"

Anko had a quick answer. "Because the likes of you is quiet, deceivingly kind, has a dark sense of humor, and is a bit of tortured soul, which my sadistic side likes."

She'd actually thought this through, thought Ibiki in surprise. He didn't seem to be one of her passing fancies.

"I have very little to offer you in the way of a relationship." admitted Ibiki.

"Hey, I'm not asking you for much! Just hang out with me every once and a while. And don't forget to take care of yourself. You've probably been wearing those clothes for a week now." She made a grossed out face.

He laughed, a deep guttural sound, that unbeknownst to him, made her tingle inside. To her, he was an enigma in her life of simple idiot ninja and straightforward psychopaths. Scars didn't faze her, and neither did the knowledge of waking nightmares such as the one Ibiki had been put through. His coal-black eyes seemed to have an intensity that others' lacked, and she wanted them all to herself, selfishly or not.

Ibiki stood up and grabbed his coat off the hanger. "I think I'll be off."

"Home? You're not sneaking back off to ANBU headquarters, are you?"

"Of course not. I think I want some sleep on a real bed."

Anko couldn't help herself. On an impulse she ran up to Ibiki and gave him a peck on the cheek, loving the feel of his tanned skin under her lips. And on a much bigger impulse, something he much more rarely acted on than her, he leaned down nearly a foot and gave her a kiss on the lips.

It was over quickly, ending with shock and both of them savoring each others' taste.

"Er...sorry," he stammered. "I'll be going."

"No reason to be sorry," she said cheerily. "By the way, another reason I like you if because you can be unbearably cute sometimes." And she actually pinched his cheek.

He left her apartment in a storm of fury. _Cute?_

* * *

Yes, I have a bit of a thing with hands, especially Ibiki's. All those scars just make me think...especially after Dosu said something about the probable condition of Ibiki's hands. He said they were probably worse than his head. Of course, being Dosu, he made some snarky comment about never being dumb enough to get captured.

So, I hope you liked it! :)


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